Give me wisdom, Lord.
Thirteen
After two days of being snowbound, everyone felt restless, the children especially so. Emily had done her best to keep their minds occupied, but even she felt taxed to the limit. She wanted to be anywhere but here, kept in such close quarters with the Blake family. No, it wasn’t the family that made her nerves scream. It was being in such close proximity to Gavin. Whenever he was in the same room, she found it difficult to breathe.
Thankfully, he wasn’t in the room at present.
Emily turned from the window to look at the two girls seated at the table. “I’ll bet there isn’t a bit of snow in Boise. The weather’s almost always warm for the Howard Clive Ball. It’s the social event of the fall season.”
“What’s a ball?” Petula asked.
Sabrina answered, “It’s a dance, silly.”
“Don’t call your sister names,” Dru cautioned.
Petula stuck out her tongue at Sabrina in a so-there expression.
If Emily didn’t do something, they would be fighting in a few seconds. “I do love to waltz,” she said, hoping to distract them. She twirled in a circle, arms out as if holding a dance partner.
Sabrina and Petula pushed aside their schoolbooks, waiting for her to continue.
“Tell us more,” Sabrina encouraged.
Emily was only too happy to oblige. “The first year we were in Idaho — that was a long, long time ago — my sister attended the event. It’s where my brother-in-law proposed to her. I was only six, but I remember how she looked that night. Her gown was silvery-blue and there were little puffed sleeves right here.” She pointed to the spot on her upper arms. “The dress had a big skirt, held out by lots of stiff petticoats. Well, maybe they weren’t petticoats. Maybe she had a hooped skirt. Dresses were so different back then.”
Emily sat across from the children and rested her chin in the palms of her hands, elbows on the table. “My first ball gown was very different from Maggie’s. It was apple green and embroidered with red poppies, and it had a square neck edged with white lace. I wore long white gloves that had gold bands at the wrists. The vogue was for long trains then, and my first ball gown had a very long one, indeed. I felt so grown up in it. I danced and danced and danced that night. Mr. Clive had an orchestra up in a loft above the ballroom, and they hardly ever stopped playing. It was magical.”
“I bet you were the prettiest girl there.”
“Thank you, Pet. That’s very sweet of you to say.” Her gaze flicked to the far end of the parlor where Dru sat near the fireplace, knitting a scarf.
Emily closed her eyes, envisioning herself in that same dress, and she wondered: Would Gavin have wanted to dance with her if he’d been there? The moment the question formed in her mind, she willed it to go away. She couldn’t think about him like that. She mustn’t think about him like that.
Sabrina leaned forward. “Do you suppose, when I’m old enough, I could go to the ball? Do you think anybody’d want to dance with me?”
Eyes open again, Emily reached across the table and clasped the girl’s hand. “If you lived in Boise, you would most assuredly be invited, and all the young men would want to dance with you.”
“I don’t know how to dance.” Sabrina looked crestfallen.
The girl’s expression squeezed Emily’s heart. “Then we must teach you at once. Put your book down and stand up.” She shoved chairs against the walls as she spoke, clearing a wide space in the middle of the parlor. Satisfied, she turned toward Sabrina. “Come here.”
In short order, she instructed the child how to stand, how to hold her partner’s hand, how to follow the man’s lead. “And you should smile all the while, as if you know a secret that your partner doesn’t know.” She laughed, then hummed a tune, swaying with the melody.
Sabrina gripped Emily’s hand as the two began to slowly turn about the room.
“Relax, Brina. It’s supposed to be fun.”
The girl tripped over her own feet, bringing them to a halt. She looked as if she might burst into tears.
“No one gets it right the first time,” Emily said in a low, encouraging voice. “It’s easier when you see others dancing.”
From across the room, Dru said, “Let your pa show you. Gavin, dance with Miss Harris.”
Emily caught her breath. When had Gavin returned? She kept her eyes trained on Dru, answering, “I . . . I think it would be better if Mr. Blake danced with Brina.”
Sabrina said, “But you said it’s easier to learn if I see others dancing. I can’t see when I’m dancing with Pa.”
“Gavin,” Dru said softly. “Dance with Miss Harris. Show Brina how it’s done.”
Gavin answered, “I think they’re doing fine.”
Emily felt herself relax a little. He didn’t want to dance with her. That was all for the best.
But Dru didn’t let it go. “Please, Gavin. Do it for me.”
A long silence followed. Emily was tempted to glance in the direction of his voice, but she was afraid to look. What should she do? What could she say to —
“All right, Dru,” he said. Then, “May I, Miss Harris?”
This shouldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening.
She turned to face him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t. Your head — ”
“My head is fine.” He held out his arms for her, but she could see his reluctance matched her own.
Emily had promised herself that she wouldn’t feel anything more for this man than the proper regard for an employer. Surely she could dance with him, at his wife’s request, and remain emotionally withdrawn.
She stepped into his arms.
He began to sway from side to side, then, as he hummed the same melody she had hummed a short while before, they began to twirl around the parlor. Emily stared at the base of his throat, afraid to look up, afraid to look into his eyes, afraid he might see what she was feeling — feelings she didn’t want to have. It was the most torturous dance of her young life.
Gavin.
They spun to a halt in the middle of the room. Her skirts swished around her ankles, then stilled. Emily withdrew her hand from his and stepped away, her pulse pounding in her ears.
“Thank you for the dance, Miss Harris.”
She had to look at him then. Couldn’t keep from it.
He bowed his head.
Dru and the girls applauded. “That was wonderful,” Dru said. “Absolutely charming.”
Emily had never felt this way before. She longed to step back into his embrace. She wanted to be in his arms, to be there even when she knew she shouldn’t want to be there.
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Recalling that commandment made her want to groan, because surely it meant her neighbor’s husband as well.
She turned away from him. “Your turn, Brina. Dance with your father.”
Without waiting to see what happened, she went to the table, fighting for composure and praying no one had seen the storm that battered her from within. I don’t belong here. I must leave. I must.
As suddenly as the temperature had dropped and the blizzard blew through, warming winds arrived the next day to melt the snowfall. Water dripped from the eaves of the house and barn. Brown, muddy spots of earth appeared in the yard. In a few days, all traces of snow would be gone, and they would leave the basin.
Gavin tossed another flake of hay over the side of the stall, then leaned on the top rail as the black gelding buried his nose in the feed, searching for the most delectable shoots.
They needed to get out of this valley. They needed to see some other people, say howdy to their Challis neighbors. He’d like to play a few games of checkers with Patrick O’Donnell and take the girls to the mercantile where they could buy a new hair ribbon or a new doll. Things were too close here, too secluded. He needed to keep busy, get his mind back to the business of ranching instead of thinking so much on —
He didn’t allow himself to finish that train of thought.
It could only lead to trouble.
Gavin left the barn and returned to the cabin. Inside, he took off his coat and hung it on the nearest peg. “It’s warming up out there.” He turned around.
Dru sat in her rocking chair near the fireplace, a bundle of mending on the rug near her feet, needle and thread in her hands.
“We’ll be out of here in a couple of days or so.”
She nodded, but it was easy to see the thought didn’t make her happy.
He moved toward her. “Spring will be here before you know it.”
“Spring.” Her expression grew wistful. “I always loved to see spring come. It’s so beautiful when the wildflowers are in bloom.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing his fingers in wordless acknowledgment of what she hadn’t said. Time was growing short.
The door to Emily’s room opened, and she stepped into the parlor. She wore another pretty gown, one he hadn’t seen before. Both she and the dress were out of place in this rustic cabin.
“Where are the girls?” she asked.
Dru set aside her mending. “Outside playing.”
“May I speak with the two of you a moment?” Emily moved toward them, the hem of her dress swishing against the floor as she walked, her hands clasped at her waist.
Gavin remembered the feel of her small hand within his as they’d waltzed in this room yesterday. He remembered it too well.
Emily looked straight at Dru. “Mrs. Blake, I’m very fond of Brina and Pet. You know I am. They’re wonderful girls, so bright and easy to teach.” She talked fast, her words almost running together. “But you see, I realized last night how much I miss my family. I think I should go home. I . . . I miss all the social events in Boise and my friends and the theater and . . .” Her words faded into silence, and her gaze dropped to the floor.
Gavin felt as if he’d been punched. He’d always known she didn’t belong here, but he’d almost forgotten. He’d almost begun to believe she would stay. He was a fool. As big a fool as his father ever was.
“I think I should return to Boise as soon as we’re able to leave the basin,” Emily ended.
Gavin stepped away from Dru and strode toward the door. “You’ll have to wait for the stage in Challis, Miss Harris.” He slipped his arms into his coat sleeves. “I’ll check on the girls.” He slammed the door behind him.
He never should have let down his guard. He never should have let himself believe that Emily might be different from other beautiful women of means. He never should have taken her in his arms and danced with her. Never . . . never . . . never.
He should have refused Dru when she first made the suggestion to hire a governess. He should have told her he could take care of everything. He could have taught the girls their lessons. He could be Dru’s nurse and companion. They hadn’t needed someone else, but because he hadn’t stuck by his guns, Dru and the girls would be hurt when Emily left.
Giggles filtered down from the loft as he stepped into the barn, and he knew Sabrina and Petula were playing with the kittens. He was in no mood for laughter or children’s banter. Without a word, he turned on his heel. Swift strides carried him away from the barn and off toward a copse of aspens.
He remembered again the day his mother had left them, the way she rode away without a backward glance. Then he imagined Sabrina and Petula watching Emily Harris leave. They would be heartbroken. They adored her, and she was leaving because life here was too hard.
Or was she leaving because of him? The thought stopped him in his tracks.
Was it possible that she’d guessed that he’d begun to care for her — even as he’d tried to deny it to himself?
Dru tapped lightly on the door to Emily’s bedroom. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” came the soft reply.
She opened the door.
Emily was seated on the edge of her bed, her hands clenched in her lap. Her cheeks were damp with her tears. “I’m sorry, Dru. I thought I could do this, but I was wrong. I can’t help it.”
Dru sat beside her and took hold of her left hand. “What has really upset you, Emily? I don’t believe it is because you miss the social activities in Boise City.”
“But it is. I — ”
“When you took this job, you promised to stay through spring. I must hold you to that.”
“But — ”
“I’m ill, Emily, and I’m going to get worse. My daughters love you already. They trust you. They’re going to need you more than you know. You can’t leave them now. They’ve suffered enough loss in their short lives. Please. Keep your promise to me and to them.”
Emily drew her hand from Dru’s grasp, rose, and began to pace the floor.
Dru saw the turmoil written on the young woman’s face, and for a moment, she felt ashamed of herself. Ashamed for using both Gavin and Emily the way she had done, the way she still meant to do. But if they could learn to love each other the way she hoped they would, the way she thought they were already beginning to, wouldn’t it all be for the best? Ruthlessly she pushed away her doubts. She had believed with all her heart that God had ordained this plan. She would not falter now.
“Emily, I cannot allow you to leave,” she repeated, more forcefully this time. “You must abide by your word of honor. I beg of you. You must stay in our employ until spring. The girls will need you when I am gone.” She paused, then added, “Gavin will need you too.”
Emily stopped her pacing and turned to face Dru. Defeat was written in her eyes. “I wish you understood,” she whispered.
“I understand much more than you know. Please, Emily. You must stay.”
She released a deep sigh. “All right, Dru. I’ll stay.”
October 12, 1883
My dear Maggie,
I write this letter while we are still in the basin, but it won’t be posted until we arrive at the main ranch and I can send it to Challis. Mr. Blake believes we should be able to leave in three or four days. Perhaps I will have more news to share by then that I can send at the same time.
We had quite the snowstorm earlier this week. You would have thought we were in the dead of winter instead of the middle of October. The heavy snow has delayed our departure. Fortunately, Mr. Blake had returned from the cattle drive before the storm began.
Maggie, I almost decided to come home. Although I love the children and Mrs. Blake has become like a sister to me, there are some things that make being here more difficult than I expected. But I cannot leave. I gave my word, and I am needed here. I hope I shall prove myself worthy of Mrs. Blake’s trust.
Emily laid the pen on the table and hid her face with her hands. She wanted her sister’s advice, but she couldn’t bring herself to write all that she felt, all that had happened. She couldn’t write that there was no place she would rather be than dancing in the arms of Gavin Blake.
God forgive me.
Gavin had been angry when she told them she wanted to go home. She’d wanted him to be angry. She wanted him to stay angry. Only then might she be all right.
She took up the pen again.
I will have my own cabin when we arrive at the main ranch. I believe that will make my job a little easier. Here in the basin, I have a room of my own, but that provides too little privacy.
Maggie dearest, please pray that I shall prove myself worthy of the trust that’s been given to me. Pray that I will be strong and able to handle whatever comes my way. It comforts me to know you are already praying for me.
Give my love to Tucker and the children, and tell them I am missing you all so very much. I will write again soon, and I look forward to the letters that I’m sure are awaiting me in Challis.
Your devoted sister,
Emily
Fourteen
The journey to the main ranch, located ten miles outside of Challis, took six days. The trail — it couldn’t be called a road — was often narrow, sometimes squeezed between a rising mountain on one side and a steep drop-off on the other, sometimes
following creeks and rivers through flats and draws. The team and wagon were often slowed to a near halt by the difficult terrain.
They were an odd-looking group, Emily thought. Gavin drove the wagon with Dru either at his side or resting on the makeshift bed behind the seat. In addition, the wagon held several trunks, a basket containing an unhappy Countess and her mewing kittens, and a wooden cage full of squawking chickens. The two milk cows were tied to the back of the wagon, and Sabrina’s orphaned calf trotted along beside them. Emily and the girls brought up the rear on horseback.
Twilight had spread a gray mantle over the countryside by the time Gavin brought his tired band of travelers into the yard of the Lucky Strike on the sixth day after they departed the Stanley Basin. Emily was too weary to give anything more than a cursory glance at the house and outbuildings before sliding from the palomino’s back. Every part of her body ached. Her backside. Her thighs. Her arms. Her head. She longed for a bath and a night in a real bed. She would have to settle for the latter for now.
Gavin hopped down from the wagon seat, then turned to hold his arms out for his wife. Emily watched as Dru slipped into his strong embrace, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder and neck. For a moment, Emily forgot her resolve and wished he might hold her in the same manner. How wonderful to be cared for so tenderly.
Gavin looked her way. “I’ll need your help getting everyone settled.”
There was no tenderness about his tone of voice, no doubt about the coldness of his feelings for her. No, her request to leave the Blake family, her wish to return to Boise, had brought about its desired effect. If there had ever been a warming of feelings between them, it was gone now. Gavin felt nothing but disdain for her. And that was what Emily had wanted, to keep him at arm’s length.
Robin Lee Hatcher Page 9
